


Pale Ivory Wrist

by alphvjensen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Chair Bondage, Chair Sex, F/M, Light Bondage, Masturbation, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 23:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8820706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphvjensen/pseuds/alphvjensen
Summary: “You know, there many ways for someone to become a demon.” She whispered.”This mark on your arm makes that so.” He shuddered as she traced a finger over the mark that was starting to glow red. “Death can expedite that process. You die. You wake up with black eyes. It’s simple. It’s boring. But like I said, there are other ways that you can turn into a demon, become one of the things that you hate so much. Give it time and this mark will warp your soul into something that your humanity doesn’t recognize but that takes years and sweetheart, you aren’t worth that much time.”





	

Finding him wasn’t hard. Hell, it wasn’t even a challenge and if she was completely honest, she was looking forward to a hunt. It had been so long since she’s been on a good chase. With social media and the blatant vanity that swept the populous, all it took was a quick search and they were dead within hours. That wasn’t hunting. That wasn’t even tracking. That was just showing up at the location that they had tagged.

She had heard stories when he and his brother were two of the hardest people to find, leaving almost no paper trail, changing up credit cards if not every month, every other month. They always seemed to be three steps ahead of everyone and were only caught when they wanted to be caught.

But that all changed when his brother died. Sam was supposed to be the chosen one, the one that was going to close the gates of hell, send every demon back to hell, end the demon deals and the ten years of prosperity for anyone who had called upon a demon forever. 

He had managed to cure Crowley who Dean had killed the moment that he realized that he was the reason that his brother was dead. When the final injection was done, Sam had turned to his brother, his eyes shining, a smile on his face that resembled the smile of a small child who was showing something to their father that they were proud of. And Dean returned that smile because dammit, his brother did it. His brother finished the final trial and all he had to say was the final spell and it would be done. A couple of words in latin and the demons would be gone.

But the human body was weak and even though he once was the vessel for Lucifer, his weak flesh gave way and his soul went where it belonged. He never read off a word of that final spell and Dean sat in that old church, clutching onto the broken form of his baby brother, screaming out the words that Sam should have uttered until his throat grew raw. It did nothing. Dean wasn’t the one who needed to complete the trials and the person that needed too would never speak again. He died with that childish smile on his face, seeing nothing more than the fact that he had made his brother proud. He had done something good.

Now there is only one Winchester that's still trapped on Earth and he was willing to unleash all kinds of evil upon the world to bring Sam back and if he couldn’t do that, than he was more than willing to join him in death.

She still didn’t know the whole story, how exactly he got the mark in the first place. She knew that it had everything to do with her though. Somewhere there was a story that was passed around that if you could kill a Knight of Hell, then you were given the abilities that were equivalent to a god and those abilities included bringing back loved ones from the dead. Which is probably why he seemed out the only person left in the world that had the only thing that could kill a Knight of Hell.

Cain had sworn off killing all on account of his beloved Colette which she had the grandest time killing but in times of need, Dean was very persuasive.

The mark did nothing more than feed the animalistic anger that was festering deep inside of him and without his brother by his side, keeping him sane, he all but went off the deep end, willing to kill anything just to find the one person that he wanted.

All she had to do was followed the bodies that he left in his wake as he thought that he was following her trail. And then all it took was for her to take the body of some perky brunette, buy him a couple of drinks, promise him to ‘fill that hole’ in his heart.

It was easy and pathetic how desperately he wanted attention for just a little bit.

The moment that his body hit the dirty motel floor, asleep before he knew what was really happening, she killed the brunette and returned to the redhead (hey, who could blame her? Even demons get a little sentimental about their meat suits) and the pair of demons that had been hanging back, ready to offer their hand of assistance if need be, emerged from the shadows and transported Dean back to her bedroom in the deepest, darkest corner of hell.

Exactly where a transformation like the one that was about to happen should take place.

He was placed in a simple metal chair, wrist cuffed to the arm rest. His head was resting lightly on his chest, steady breathes fell past his slightly parted lips and it took everything in Abaddon to not go over there and have her way with the fallen hunter. But she had self-control. She would wait.

He woke, slowly. He lifted his head off his chest, trying to look at where he was but there was a blindfold covering his eyes. It was a precaution. She didn’t want him waking before she was completely ready for him.

Her stiletto heels echoed around the room as she walked towards Dean and he turned towards her, lips pulled into a frown as his body was tense. He hated this, not being able to see, not knowing where he was, who was on the other side of the blindfold. Even though he was still fully clothed, he felt so exposed.

Abaddon didn’t say anything as she removed the blindfold, stepping back a step to allow Dean to fully see her. He blinked a couple of times, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness and the moment that he saw her, his hands clenched together in a fist. He didn’t want to take his eyes off of her but his hunter instincts told him to take in his surrounds, assess the situation and figure out the easiest way to get out. With a clenched jaw, he took his eyes away from her and looked around the room.

He swallowed hard as he looked at the huge four poster bed that was in the middle of the room, briefly looking back at Abaddon before returning to his evaluation of the room.

There were no doors, no windows, no way for him to get out. Only that bed that was in the middle of the room and off to the side, a table that was lined with things that Dean couldn’t make out but he was sure that all it would take was an educated guess and he would guess right.

I mean, Abaddon was standing before him wearing hardly anything with that bed behind her and he was handcuffed to a chair.

“I can tell you right now, I’m not really that into bondage.” Dean finally spoke when he looked back to Abaddon, his jaw locked.

Abaddon just smiled, stepping closer to Dean and he turned to look away again.

Several tense moments passed before she made an annoyed sound.

He still wasn’t looking at her, his jaw clenched as he stared at anything that wasn’t her. “You know, there many ways for someone to become a demon.” She whispered.”This mark on your arm makes that so.” He shuddered as she traced a finger over the mark that was starting to glow red. “Death can expedite that process. You die. You wake up with black eyes. It’s simple. It’s boring. But like I said, there are other ways that you can turn into a demon, become one of the things that you hate so much. Give it time and this mark will warp your soul into something that your humanity doesn’t recognize but that takes years and sweetheart, you aren’t worth that much time.”

She ran her finger along his jawline and other than a slight twitch in his jaw, he didn’t move. He held his resolve, his silent defiance.

“If you introduce enough impurities into the body, you’ll turn. I’m going to assume that you’re not squeamish around blood, right?” And finally she got a reaction out of him.

Dean turned his head, eyes wide as he searched her face, probably looking for any trace of a lie. He swallowed and any look of surprise was wiped from his face as he returned to that defiant stare, eyes hardened, jaw locked.

“So what? We’re just gonna sit around and do baby demon shots until I get black eyes? Thanks but I’ll pass.”

She laughed this time, loud and it seeped into his bones, making him shiver. He didn’t like where this was going. Instinct made him look around the room again, desperately looking for a way out, a possible way of escape but there was nothing. He was trapped with a demon that wanted to do nothing more than to own him. To turn him into the things that he hunted.

“I’m not gonna turn you right now, Dean. Not when you’re so ungrateful of the gift that you were given but I did bring you here for a reason.” She said as she looked over her shoulder towards the bed.

Dean scoffed. This whole situation was ridiculous. After everything in he went through, after everything he fought, this was going to be his end.

“I can sense your apprehension.” Abaddon muttered, throwing her leg over his lap, straddling him now in his seat. “But you’ve got nothing to be scared of, Dean.” She purred, against his the shell of his ear, running her fingers through his hair. Her nails scratched against his scalp. “I don’t have sex with unwilling parties, Dean.” She said with a sigh as she climbed to her feet, her hands sliding down Dean’s chest until they were no longer touching. “Demons do have morals, questionable ones at times but there are lines that demons will not cross. But…” She sighed. “That doesn’t mean that I’m still not going to have a little fun. And you’ll just stay there and watch.”

She took another step back, moving to where Dean could see all of her and for the first time in the night, she saw something cross his face that wasn’t defiance or anger. His eyes darkened with want, with desire. Just a little bit, subtle but it was enough to send tremors through her.

She ran her hands up her thighs the way that she knew that Dean would when this was all over, when he was finally hers. She moaned, just a little bit, just for Dean, the higher her fingers got up her legs. And Dean, poor little defiant Dean tried so hard to act so uninterested. She hooked her thumbs underneath the waistband of her underwear that did very little to cover up anything and pulled them down her thighs, bending over at the waist.

“I only have one rule, Dean.” She said when she stood back up straight. “You cannot make a sound. I do not want to hear you. I don’t even want to hear you breathe. Do you understand?” Dean nodded his head, willing himself to not let his eyes wander. “I need verbal confirmation, Dean. I can’t hear your head rattle.”

“I got it.” He choked out. “I can’t say anything.”

She smiled. “Good boy.”

Without much more preamble, she turned around and started to walk towards the four poster bed that was placed in the middle of the room, purposely sticking her ass in the air as she crawled towards the center of the bed, settling down on her back.

Her skin felt hot as she felt Dean’s eyes on her, knowing that he was watching with undivided attention now. She ran her fingers back up her legs, across her stomach, goosebumps following in wake as she toyed with her breast through the lacy material of her bra. Several moments passed as she continued to cup and squeeze her breast before she arched her back off the bed, unclasping the bra and she tossed it to the side.

Dean’s breathing hitched.

Seeing there was no reason to further tease herself, she slid her hand down her body once again, not pausing as she brushed her fingers through her folds and pushed her fingers inside of her, rubbing the heel of her hand over her clit. Dean made a sound that sounded almost like a grunt as he watched her.

He tried not too though. Lord knows he tried but there was something about her that made her so captivating, so intoxicating. She was spread out on the bed, her skin nearly pale in comparison to the black silk sheets that lined the bed. Her hair was fanned out around her head. Her back was perfectly arched off the bed as her fingers moved inside of her, move slightly parted, small little sounds fell past her lips.

Dean swallowed thickly, shifting in the chair trying to ease some of the throbbing that he was now feeling in between his legs.

“God…” he whispered, just barely a sound and the moment that he said it, he hoped that Abaddon hadn’t had heard him. She was serious about the no speaking thing and he wasn’t sure what she would do to him if he disobeyed him.

But Abaddon had heard him. She opened her eyes, turning her head to look over at him, and he clenched his jaw, waiting for what she would do. But she did nothing but smile at him. The expression seeming so predatory like that made his skin crawl. She doesn’t draw this out, knowing that she’s got Dean’s full attention, knowing that he was wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger. He was gone to her even if he didn’t know it quite yet.

Her back arches off of the bed even more when she comes, her toes clenched the sheets and Dean makes this pathetic whimper as he watches.

When the haze of her orgasm subsides and she turns her attention back to the man that was bound to the chair she can’t help but feel the thrill of control that was pumping through her. Dean’s straining against the bounds, his eyes wide and blown with arousal, his jaw is clenched so tight that she’s actually concerned that he might break a tooth but he doesn’t want to disappoint her again with making another pathetic sound.

Yeah, this was easier than what she had thought.

“You can relax, Dean.” She said in a low, dark voice.

He let out a rush of air as he sagged in the chair now, still watching her, chest heaving with heavy puffs of breaths. He watched as she moved from the bed, long legs graceful, every step filled with purpose as she crossed the room again and straddled Dean’s waist for the second time.

She looked at him, looking for any sign of defiance that may still be lingering there and there was a little bit, she was sure she would never get rid of it all but she was pleased with what she saw. He was begging for her.

She leaned forward, crushing her lips against his and he starts kissing her with this most fevered passion that she wasn’t sure where the defiant man that was just there went. She rolled her hips against the erection that was tenting in his jeans and Dean groaned against her lips, his mouth going lax. She took that moment to bite down on his bottom lip, biting until she broke skin and she could taste all of that self righteous blood that was still pumping through his body. She could only imagine how much sweeter he would taste when he had her blood coursing through his veins.

She pulled back, the taste of his blood still in her mouth and he looked absolutely wrecked already. His bottom lip was red, still bleeding and she could have sat there, drinking his blood until she became drunk on humanity.

But she had self-control and she still had plans for Dean. Meaning that she couldn’t lose herself just yet. “A pretty boy like you must know how to please a girl.” She muttered against his lips as she rolled her hips against Dean’s once more.

He groaned as he threw his head back, his beautiful neck splattered with freckles, exposed to her. She mouthed over at his pulse, feeling the blood rush underneath his skin. She tasted the salt on his skin, the taste of his downfall.

She rested her fingers on his bottom lip that was still bleeding. He looked at her, waiting for her instruction.

“Suck.” She demanded.

Dean opened his mouth, running his tongue along the pad of her finger before closing his lips around them. He could still taste her on her fingers and he sucked on them greedily. He run his tongue down in between her two fingers, slowing teasing at the base before he came back up slowly, taking his time. Abaddon squirmed against Dean, watching him as he took her fingers down his throat as far as he could.

“That’s a good boy.” She praised, running her fingers through his hair, grabbing onto the short locks and yanked his head back. He opened his mouth and her fingers fell free.

“Please…” He whimpered.

And who was Abaddon to deny a man that was begging for her.

She ran her hands down his throat, hovering just briefly over his pulse that was now beating in time with hers before she moved further down, slowly undoing the buttons on his flannel shirt, exposing the wide expanse of his chest. His shirt hangs loose off his shoulders as she ran her nails down his chest, just barely breaking the skin. She bent down, running her tongue along the bloody scrapes that she had just created.

She crawled off his body, settling down on her knees as she pushed Dean’s legs further apart, getting comfortable in between them. Her lips hovered over the waistband of his jeans as she worked on the button. She sucked a purple mark over his hipbone, marking him before she pulled down his jeans and underwear just far enough so that she could wrap her hand around his cock.

Abaddon took her time, wanting to savor this moment. She ran her hand up and down his shaft, fondling and feeling everything that he had to offer. She placed little kitten licks and kisses over the smooth skin and he bucked his hips up towards her every few moments, begging for more. And every time he would buck towards her, she would scrape her teeth along the bottom side of him, just lightly enough to make him shiver, his fingers gripping the armrest of the chair.

He was beautiful like this, eyes closed, head thrown back, breathless moans falling past his lips.

Without much preamble, she sucked him down, taking him down her throat until her lips were around the base of his cock. He moaned, loud and wanting and he bucked up into her mouth hard that she had to dig her nails into his thigh.

He was now shaking under her, completely on edge and she could have strung him out longer.

But why should she?

She pulled off of him with a wet pop, her lips even more swollen now than usual.

“You are doing so good for me, Dean.” She muttered as she moved back up his body, straddling his waist, capturing his cock in between their bodies.

She kissed him hungrily, rolling her hips to fit his cock along the length of her sex, the head just even with her clit. He whined and she rained kisses all over him, all over his face, nipping and sucking at his jawline. She rocked against him, feeling sparks shooting up through her. He didn’t have much leverage, sitting there bound to the chair with Abaddon on top of him but he did his best to thrust up against her.

“Are you mine, Dean?” She whispered against his ear and he nodded, much more urgently than she would have ever thought. “Are you?”

“Yes.” He breathed. “Yes, I am. I’m… I’m yours. Please…”

Finally, after so much teasing and waiting, she sank down onto Dean. There was an urgent roll of her hips, and he chased hers, wanting her deep inside of him. She placed her hand on his cheek and he turned his head, laying small nips and licks over her palm before taking her thumb into his mouth.

Dean stared up at her as he sucked before he pulled off again.

She watched as he moved underneath her and she gasped when she felt his hands land on her hips, the cold steel of knife that he kept in his back pocket, resting against her skin. She stopped moving, just for a second, cursing her own stupidity. She took his gun, the one that he held in his waistband and the one that was strapped on his ankle but she didn’t take his knife. And she tied him up with nylon rope. Not metal or chains, but rope that could easily be cut through.

But he didn’t try to escape. Instead, he grabbed her hand again, pressing another short kiss to the palm of her hand and rested the knife to her wrist.

He looked up at her, waiting and Abaddon smirked. She ran her other hand through his hair and nodded.

“Go ahead, baby, cut open a vein. It’s all yours.”

And he did. The steel cut the soft flesh of her wrist and he waited just a second before and lapped at the blood that pooled at the surface.

It was going to take more blood than what she had to offer to turn him. He was going to have to replace all of the blood that was tainted with humanity with blood that was forged deep in the pits of hell, but she was going to let him have this.

She was going to let him satisty his craving for her before she took him as her own.

**Author's Note:**

> so guess who is writing again. me. yay. finally. let me know what you think of this. thoughts, comments and opinions are always welcomed.


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